


Rocking The Vote

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hot Ass Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sheriff/Ladies of Beacon Hills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:30:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Election season is long and exhausting, but John loves being Sheriff. And the things he has to do to keep his job aren’t exactly a hardship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rocking The Vote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [halfhardtorock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfhardtorock/gifts).



> Happy December!
> 
> I decided back in... September or October that I was going to write 31 ficlets for December for 31 people. By random chance (and mostly because hahaha I am in love with Sheriff Stilinski), the first fic goes to Halfhardtorock, who requested Sheriff/Ladies of Beacon Hills. 
> 
> This is the result.

Reaching down, John tangled his fingers in Natalie Martin's hair and pulled, watching in satisfaction as her back arched, baring her neck for him as she gasped and her inner muscles squeezed down on him even as he pounded into her. He rode her through her first orgasm and then released his grip on her to allow her to slump, boneless, against the mattress as he slowed his thrusts to filthy little grinding motions of his hips. 

Sliding his fingers down to where he was still rocking into her, he gathered up some of the wetness that leaked all the way to her thighs from around where his dick was stretching her wide. Unable to deny himself, he brought those fingers to his mouth, licking and slurping on them loud enough for her to hear it before he went back for more. This time, he restrained himself, using those fingers to split the cheeks of her ass and massage her tight little asshole with her own come.

He dropped his other hand to her belly and slid it down, dragging his fingers in slow circles over her clit, groaning when that caused her to tighten up around him. He pulled out until the head of his dick was barely kissing her flexing opening, pulsing his hips to tease her. Tilting his wrist, he pinched down tight on her clit and slammed back into her, thrusting his thumb rudely into her ass at the same time.

That was it, all it took for her body to shake and shudder against him as she screamed her orgasm into her pillow.

—

"God, John," Melissa breathed, her voice high and pitchy as her nails dug into his scalp, holding him in place. She pressed her pussy up against his mouth, rocking against him and taking control of her own pleasure.

Treating him like just another toy out of her drawer.

John rutted against the sheets, giving in to his own arousal as he licked and sucked at her, rolling her flavor across his tongue. His fingers plucked at her nipples, soft little pinches and tugs that caused her to tighten her thighs around his ears. Plunging his tongue deep, he shook his head like a dog, rubbing the tip of his nose back and forth over her clit until she broke apart under him, hips twisting up and away as she became too sensitive to withstand direct stimulation.

Dropping his tender grip on her breasts, he hiked her hips up further and flicked his tongue over her clenching asshole until she screamed her way into a second orgasm.

—

Victoria sat back on her heels, high, tight breasts belying her age as she smoothed one hand over the rubber cock that rose straight and proud from the harness attached to her hips.

"You're sure job security is worth all this, Sheriff?" she asked, a cold smile twisting her red, red lips.

"It wouldn't be the first time one of my constituents fucked me over," John replied easily, letting his legs fall open so she could see how wet and open he was for her. "Besides, you look like you know what you're doing with that and... well. Your husband seems more than satisfied."

"Why don't we leave Chris out of this, hmm?" Victoria moved forward, smoothly fitting the dildo attachment between his cheeks and sliding inside.

John couldn't hold back a small, strangled sound. Didn't try to, really, just relaxed into the feeling of being so damn full. He gasped out encouragement as she lazily pumped a few more times before his eyes flew wide. The head of her dick was mashed up against his prostate, the pressure too much and not enough at the same time.

"Sheriff," she called lightly, teeth white as she bared them at him, her eyes glinting brightly. "Brace yourself."

And that was all the warning he got before that damn dildo started _buzzing_ in his ass, the vibrations shooting through him as he shook, helplessly caught in the sensation. Words of praise fell all around him, hands stroked his skin, and still the overwhelming pleasure built in his ass. 

He couldn't move, couldn't _breathe_ , just stared up into Victoria Argent's flushed, triumphant face as his orgasm barrelled through him.

—

John sat forward on the couch, gently taking Constance Whittemore's wine glass from her hand. After setting their glasses aside, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slow and sweet, murmuring nonsense against her mouth, tangling loving words on her tongue.

He undressed her slowly, stopping to worship every inch of skin he uncovered, not shying away from any part of her. When her tears came, he licked them from her skin and held her close in his arms, reassuring her as he carded his fingers through her hair. 

When he slid into her, he made sure he was looking into her eyes, letting her feel their closeness. He hitched her thigh up around his hips and kept his thrusts slow and steady, working her up in increments.

He kept touching her, told her how beautiful she was, how precious, until she spilled her release so sweetly over him that he had to bury his face in her throat to keep from coming himself.

Not that David Whittemore would care, but it was one less thing for Constance to have to clean up.

—

John was carefully going over his spreadsheet to ensure he hadn't missed anyone when a sharp rap on his door made him look up. 

"Sir, there's a young lady here to see you. She's wearing a US Marshal's badge."

Taking a moment to save and exit out of Excel, John nodded at his deputy and sat back in his chair, listening to it creak beneath him.

The woman that entered his office was, indeed, young. She was also indescribably beautiful and from the way her lips curled and her hips swayed, she knew it. 

John coughed into his hand and waved toward the seat facing his desk. "How may I assist you, Marshal … ?" John let his question trail off, prompting her to fill in the blank.

But she just kept smiling, shutting the door behind her and slowly, deliberately, turning the door lock. When his brows winged up in surprise, she chuckled and said, "Call me Braeden, Sheriff. I think I'd like us to be on a first name basis." Then, she deftly unbuttoned the long, leather trench coat she was wearing to reveal nothing underneath but a bra that barely contained her breasts and a tiny scrap of underwear to match.

John sucked in a breath, his eyes flaring wide, as she approached him, all long-legged grace. When she swung one leg over his chair and sank straight down to his lap, grinding her ass against him, he finally found his voice. "What are you…?"

"Aww, Sheriff." She leaned forward, dragging her tongue over the tip of his ear before nipping it with sharp teeth. "I'm a registered voter."

As her words sank through the fog of lust that was rapidly filling him, John let out a hoarse chuckle and finally — finally — set his hands around her waist, tugging her down and rubbing his dick up against her. "Sounds like I need to speak with the county records clerk. Update my files."

Yanking on his shirt until the buttons broke off and flew everywhere, Braeden dragged her tongue over his bottom lip before sliding it into his mouth for him to suck on. Her hands were busy, rucking up his undershirt until she could sink her fingers into his chest hair, carding through it and tugging gently. She played there for a bit, tweaking his nipples and making appreciative noises before she stairstepped down his belly to circle his navel. Her fingers flexed nimbly then, tugging his belt open and making short work of his button and zip until she could wrap her hand around his rapidly-hardening length. When she pulled John's dick completely out of his pants, she leaned back, flickering her cat-eyed gaze over him and humming in approval. "It's always so much easier for me when rumors prove to be true."

"I've always found," John started, then broke off to curse breathlessly when she twitched the seat of her panties to the side and sank straight down on him, so wet and _hot_ and tight that his mind blanked for a minute.

"Hmm?" She rolled her hips, fingers gripping his jaw and forcing his head up so they were staring at each other. 

"It's best to do your own investigating. Witnesses are often unreliable." And then he swept his desk clean behind her and stood, laying her back so he could get leverage to pound into her.

She just dropped her head off the edge of his desk, a low, husky laugh filling the room.

—

Stiles paced the living room, biting his thumb nail until his teeth sank below the quick, then yelping and yanking his hand from his mouth, a spot of blood appearing on his thumb. 

John sighed and lowered his book, steely-eyed gaze locked on his kid. "Sit down before you fall down."

"How can you be so calm? That jackass had so many signs up in town, even _I_ forgot who I was supposed to be voting for!"

John rolled his eyes and picked his book back up, wetting his thumb with the tip of his tongue to separate two stubborn pages. "You're not old enough to vote for another two years, Stiles," he murmured, eyes skimming the page to pick up where he'd left off.

Stiles flailed his hands at him, letting out a muffled shriek. "Oh my _god_ , that's not the point! This is your job! Your livelihood! Why aren't _you_ nervous?"

"No reason to be nervous, I guess."

"Okay," Stiles said, plopping his skinny ass on the coffee table and wrinkling two of John's magazines in the process. "Tell me why you're not worried and maybe _I'll_ stop being worried."

John dropped his book back to his lap, knowing it was hopeless to attempt reading while Stiles was focused on gaining his attention. "See son, that Smith character's going about it the wrong way. This is Beacon Hills; we're a small community."

Stiles nodded, mouth dropping open in concentration as he stared hard at John.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, John sighed, bone weary from a _very_ long month. "Most politicians," he said, eyes narrowing behind his reading glasses as he tried to find the right perspective to clear this up for his teenaged son, "forget the power of women in voting. You see, if you get the women behind you, it's not just _their_ vote you're securing. It's their friends and their husbands and, in some cases, their elderly relatives and their voting-age children."

"So _that's_ why you've been attending all those luncheons!" Stiles exclaimed, flopping backward and toppling off the table in one fell swoop.

"Yes." John blinked, then shook his head, a wry grin twisting his lips. " _Luncheons._ " He shifted in his seat, rubbing at a twinge in his back as the election results continued to scroll across the bottom of the television screen in the background.

"Well, it's working!" Stiles crowed from the floor, jumping to his feet to throw his hands up in victory. "You've got a huge lead on that fucker!"

"Language," John murmured.

"Yeah, sorry. Hey, next election season, I'm totally campaigning with you. I can _so_ help you woo the lady voters!" Stiles make a clicking sound and shot ridiculous finger guns at him before spinning back to watch the results roll in.

John blinked down at the page, then squinted up at his son, lips pursing in thought. "You know," he finally said, "I think I'll hold you to that."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://eeyore9990.tumblr.com).


End file.
